


A Story of an Untold Character

by Dancingmeaves



Series: A story of an untold character [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingmeaves/pseuds/Dancingmeaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A girl wakes up to find she is somewhere entirely unexpected, in a world thought only to be fantasy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings are always important

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I thought up a fair while ago, and it has a very complex story line, but the problem is much of it is still in my head. So i keep on adding more and more. So if you want an ongoing story this is a good one (well I like it but then if you don't thats fine!)   
> So enjoy!  
> *sips tea*

She lay on her bed, tired yet restless. Tossing from side to side searching in vain for a lasting comfortable position. The half moon outlined her curtains, creating not only another distraction from sleep but also a want to go explore the world, when all else was in the thralls of sleep. Sleep, sleep was foremost on her mind and no want of an adventure could alleviate that. Yet the one thing she most needed would not come. Why could she never get the bloody sleep she needed! No wonder she was always such a grumpy mess at school!  
Her mind took to wondering to fill her sleep deprived time. Muddling over events of the previous days, not all was real some merely only echoes of what she wished she had said to those she had been in the company of.  
Her thoughts grew ever muddier, straying on to one or several tracks at once. Until all at once she found her sleep fogged mind thinking about Tolkien and his magnificent writing not surprising as she had recently been reading ‘the fellow ship of the ring’ again. In fact she found herself thinking rather in the manner of his writings  
Characters portrayed by both movie and books flashed in her mind, the recent hobbit instalment, now out, adding to her ever growing love of middle earth. She came finally to Aragorn and here she lingered for a time.  
Aragorn a man with such bravery and wisdom, humble and kind. Her mind fumbled with its new topic clumsily, like a toddler with an old toy. No men existed like that in her world, or a rare few. There was no need of men like that, much the pity. Her mind trickled ever so slowly now, sleep almost upon her, to a memory of a line in the fellowship. Said by Gandalf himself. ‘Had it not been for the help I had from a friend Aragorn, the greatest and huntsman of this age of the world.'  
Not mentioned in the movie, but Gandalf had know and adventured with Aragorn long before the hobbits even came into play. Before sleep finally took her in its arms she thought ‘what would he of been like?’ a desire to know filling her every bone and so it was that her mind flew above the world and beyond, soaring in the world of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will get better from her on, this part is just the opening. keep reading I promise I won't let you down!


	2. Unwelcome Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here Thorongil and Gandalf puzzle over this new strange arrival.

Thorongil led Erȅabra through the tangle of Mirkwood to what seemed to be a small clearing, but was in fact a meeting place known only by the rangers and their trusted friends. Here he unsaddled Erȅabra, stroking the whither of the black stallion fondly before letting him wonder a way in search of grass. Thorongil had no fear of the stallion going far, being elven trained.

A break in the canopy above revealed night had descended upon the world since Thorongil had been walking the dark paths of Mirkwood. The stars were bright against their black sea, the moon not yet risen, snuffles of unknown animals not far from the clearing hastening Thorongil to his task of the fire.

A pile of wood left by the last visitor proved useful for making a small fire, even if a little damp from the drizzle earlier that day. There was a layer of moss that covered the logs, making it obvious to Thorongil that this place had not been used in many moons.

To the left of the clearing a small creek ran silently, no more than a mere trickle, but safer than many of the lifeless rivers or pools that lay within the deeper parts of Mirkwood. Here he filled his empty water skins and a small pot he carried. When the fire was quite hot enough, he set the pot on the edge of the glowing coals filling it with herbs of a kind that would stimulate the mind, for Thorongil had come here for one purpose only, to meet with an old friend of importance who carried  vital news.

Thorongil was one of a few rangers and so was accustomed to the rough life, dealing with rocky terrain or irregular weather as you or I would taking a leisurely stroll. Yet as he settled himself in waiting for his companion to arrive, even he had to admit the chill in the air. Lighting his pipe he drew his cloak closer about him, staring into the pit of the fire.

Mirkwood was not a place he frequented often and for good reason, the trees and in fact the whole forest seemed to hold a menace that could not be explained in words, merely felt at all times. So it was it affected his mood drawing dark thoughts forth, leaving him utterly cheerless. The south of the wood was furthest from any friendly face; even the elves of the high court did not oft wander this far. He was only a half days walk from the edge of the forest and the wilderlands, yet to him it felt more a week’s journey then that he had undertaken that day.

The ancient trees seemed to lean toward the small flame, smothering any ancient enemy. Thorongil stared into the flames and found himself seeing instead of comfort or protection from the dark, a hungry devouring force, not friendly to any nor large enough to protect from anything.

He lifted his gaze from the fire to the sky, the stars seemly duller, did little to combat his heavy thoughts. Thorongil's sharp ears picked up something then that made him tense. Silence, a silence so deep and profound the even the trees seemed to shrink back to their former size. He put out his pipe and lay it by his side, rising to his feet, hand on sword, knowing something was wrong.

A soft breeze blew the tops of the trees; he swung his head sharply to the trees, surveying the dark with his piercing eyes. The breeze became a gust whipping the trees into frenzy. His lengthy hair was blown into his face along with other flying debris. He shielded his eyes to no avail.

All at once a flash blinding to the eyes filled the clearing followed by the sound of an exhaled breath. Thorongil's hair now blew wildly behind him, his arm still shielding him from the light and debris.

With this last gust the sounds of the forest returned to normality. He dropped his arm his sword held at the ready. Across from him a large mass was rapidly becoming smaller, dark scales (or skin for he could not tell) becoming the pink skin of the back of a naked female lying on the edge of the clearing. Thorongil stared in disbelief his mind creating many ugly reasons for this female’s appearance. A trick of some dark force.

He approached warily, prepared to strike if she moved. A rustle from behind and strider spun with great speed, fearing an attack. A deep gruff called from someone in the forest. “You shall not be needing that I’d expect” He released a grateful breath, checking that the female had not moved before welcoming the figure of an elderly man, with a pointed blue hat. The man he had indeed been waiting for. “You are quite late Gandalf” remarked Thorongil sourly.

“A wizard is never late, nor early, arriving precisely when he wants to, you of all people should know this,” said Gandalf leading a grey mare into the clearing, which now seemed rather crowded. “Besides it would seem you have company already and are in no need of mine”

“That” remarked Thorongil not wishing to reference to what he thought was certainly evil and not anything human “that is not mine, it appeared only moments ago making me believe I was in fact under attack.”

Gandalf stared at the naked female “Is that so? And you have not yet had the decency to cover the poor thing up” said he having determined from the look of the female that she was no more than seventeen years old and therefore no threat.

Thorongil stared at Gandalf thinking him unbalanced, who pointedly glared back causing him too promptly, remove and throw his own cloak over the female “satisfied” said Thorongil not impressed at all about sharing his only cloak with an unknown female.

“Not entirely, a good meal and an explanation to this girls appearance would not go unmissed” said Gandalf presently deciding he was very hungry.

Thorongil sighed and set about grumbling of unwanted arrivals. Yet a meal was made, if not a good one for there was not the food for a feast. Afterwards an explanation was also given as best it could. Gandalf demanding every detail he could recall of the recent events.

Gandalf sat considering the worlds of the ranger. “Well I cannot make heads or tails of it; there are not many that can simply appear, not in the fashion you’ve described at least. It would seem we will have to wait for the child’s explanation”


	3. A Dream Like No Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we finally switch to Maeves perspective. What is going on? How did she end up in middle earth?   
> All very confusing really. Will we ever know why or how this has happened?

She felt first an odd sensation; one that she couldn’t quite explain to herself nor made any sense, for her bed had never anything like grass before.  
For a time she dozed again returning to weighty dreams of a dark wood that she wondered in lost, unable to escape. A menacing voice kept calling to her trying to guide her to a place she felt only evil of. She tried to out run from the voice but could not. It now morphed as dreams often do, to become the howling of hungry animals chasing her. She ran and ran, not seeming to move, her fear bubbled over to her sleeping body causing her to thrash. Something else interfered again guiding her to a dark cave where her mind could draw her into a deeper slumber. No dreams could reach her here, nightmare or otherwise, she slept on peacefully for a time.  
The second time she floated from her slumber to a more wakeful state she noticed the cold; it seemed to pierce her light clothing. Which she in her sleepy state found quite odd, as it had in fact been a hot sticky night the last time she had checked. She fumbled for her spare blanket, her hands feeling the area around her which was slightly damp. When she could not find it within her grasp she turned over and caved again to the rest that her body demanded of her. Here she resumed the dream but this time their was more light in the dream a chance of hope although her heart still beat in fear at the echo’s of the howling monsters.  
It was not until the third time that she pulled out of the claws of her nightmares, that she noticed altogether how odd this was indeed, or how much pain her body was in. She groaned softly as she turned to one side of her body trying to comprehend where this pain came from.  
It was at this point that another thing occurred to her, there had in fact been voices, two people, two men by the deepness of their voices talking. That had now stopped apparent at her slight groan, not feeling to pleased at the situation; she decided to see if the voices would resume talking so she could possibly learn some of what on earth was going on. So despite the pain that crawled up her body at even the slightest movement, she rolled over and resumed what she hoped to be a convincing deep sleep like, breathing.  
Almost at once the two voices did indeed resume speaking although at such a hushed level that she had to strain to catch every word. This is what she heard.  
“I am not going to be responsible for this child!” said the first voice  
“Well we cannot simply go leaving the poor girl here; she has no possessions of any kind, no more than her own skin. She must be at least supported to somewhere were she can resume her own affairs” replied a deep voice sternly  
“I cannot afford a delay! I have other matters to attend to. Have you heard the great forest road has become almost impassable, even the elves do not stray far along its paths. Dark shadows lurk within the depths of Moria and the Misty Mountains are rife with Orcs. Besides she may not even be human, I know what my own eyes saw!” The first raised his voice loud that she heard all this clearly.  
“They must be barking mad”, she thought to herself privately, “Orcs? Moria?” She must have walked into a convention of some kind. Another thought crept unbidden into her mind, how did she get here? What were these men going to do with her? Were these men keeping her captive? Did they mean her harm? She felt panic rise in her, paralysing her where she lay.  
“Of course I have, never the less” replied the deeper voice “The wild is no place for a child, for child she is even if you cannot see the youth on her I can, she must be accounted for” he finished reasonably  
“It is a trick of some kind, sorcery I am certain! No one just appears it’s uncanny!” snapped the first, anger making his voice taught with tension.  
“And you should know better! I thought you well learned for a man. Magic of that kind does not exist! I should know! There will be another explanation; we have only to wait for the girl to tell us herself”  
“If you are so quick to trust, then you take her, she will do better in your company than mine” said the other sounding fed up with the whole conversation  
“I would if I could, but I fear you are quite wrong on that point, where I go is no place for a child as young as her and she would certainly not be better in my company!”  
“Nor mine, I tread only paths fraught with danger!”  
Where was she? What was going on? Who were these two men that spoke of her so? She felt rather affronted, hysteria clouding her thoughts. Appearing g out of thin air? Magic? She was to turn seventeen this year! She was not nearly as young as they were making out! She almost got up there and then to declare her independence and stalk out of the camp of these crazy men defiantly. But something held her back; she was unsettled by how these men spoke, of things that did not exist. Not to mention that the deeper of the voices was sounding awfully familiar, though she could not yet place it.  
So as to better her hearing she rolled slightly towards them, this time not noticing her pain. It was not until the first voice spoke that realised her awakening had been discovered.  
“She is awake” he muttered darkly, her heart froze within her, fearing an attack. Instead she heard him rise, his soft footsteps fading from her hearing. Not certain what to do she attempted to invoke a sleeping pattern again, instead getting a shallow breathing from her fluttering heart.  
“Come child, I am curious indeed to hear your story, you have nothing to fear here” said the owner of the deep voice  
Unsure of what else to do she spoke softly “What about that other guy, he sounds rather angry with me being here” remaining where she lay as if to protect herself. A rumbled erupted from the other startling her until she realised that he was laughing.  
“Thorongil is a suspicious man, not quick to trust, which is understandable in these times. Your appearance has quite unsettled him. He will not harm you though; he is after all a very decent fellow” said the voice.  
Deciding there was no point in continuing with the pretence of sleeping. She opened her eyes and slowly sat up, the pain showing its ugly head again. She moaned then as her eyes focused with the bright sunlight she stared outright, her mouth slightly ajar. For she knew this man, with his battered hat, long beard, lined face and friendly eyes.  
Gandalf leaned forward seeing the gleam of recognition in this girl’s eye. “You know me?” she nodded  
“But, but” she stumbled “it’s not possible!”  
The rumble of his laugh welled up again, for some reason he found himself taking an immediate liking to this girl. When his laugh had subsided somewhat although still chuckling to himself he said kindly. “Nothing is impossible, there are many things that may seem improbable, but there is truly nothing that is entirely unlikely”  
She shook her head vigorously, “Umm no, its not likely, you belong in a book! Your a character written by a dude who is well and truly dead! A really awesome character though” she said not wanting to appear rude. “But you're diffenetely not real, I mean this has got to be a dream of some kind!”  
He raised a surprised eyebrow at her words and considered her a little harder; she did not seem to suffer from madness but her words were peculiar and not at all like any he had heard before. Something else was about. “Yet here I sit” said Gandalf “obviously no mere character from the writings of a book. Although I have not mentioned my name thus far, so I find it curios indeed that you know me from sight, is there pictures in this book? If not then I may not be who you think I am.  
She skirted his question of pictures not wanting to bring in an explanation of movies; to someone she must be dreaming, “you're Gandalf that old wizard, aren't you?” she replied promptly with a tinge of sarcasm.  
He nodded smiling, despite her rudeness, having expected that she would know who he was. “Indeed I am”  
It was at this moment that Thorongil returned carrying fresh wood for the fire. She raised her gaze from Gandalf to apprise this man who thought her unhuman. Unconsciously she described him as Tolkien would, her quick mind already picking up the way in which Gandalf had spoken.  
He was unkempt in appearance wearing clothes that looked weather-beaten to the extreme. He sported a thick beard, matching his lengthy hair that reached just beyond his shoulder. His eyes that were hostile towards her were like great murky pools, seemingly holding great wisdom, and an intelligence that was undeniable. Yet she could also sense unhappiness, his shoulders heavy with a burden which she could not guess.  
His eyes lay heavy on her; she held his gaze for a time and thought she saw a face known to her. Yet such was the mistrust he wore, that she found herself shifting her gaze to her hands which lay clenched in her lap, the recognition gone. It was then that she realised she was clothed in nothing more than a mere drape of a kind. An unbidden blush crept upon her, colouring her face brightly.  
Gandalf watched this interplay gravely “Come Thorongil, give the child no more grievance, long has it been since you could not find trust in such a young, fair thing.” Said he “Let her borrow clothes of yours so she does not sit uncomfortable as she tells us the way in which she arrived here.”  
In reply Thorongil scowled darkly before striding purposefully towards a great tree which boar a few bags of a kind that looked to be best seated upon the back of a horse. Here he rummaged through, withdrawing a second set of clothes of a kind to that of the ones he now wore. These were kept to replace the others in times in need. He was loath to give them to this child but with Gandalf’s firm gaze watching his every movement he did not falter, nor hesitate when handing them into the hands of the girl.  
She accepted them with a smile and hurried words of thanks before running into the undergrowth Gandalf spoke before she was too far in.  
“What is your name child?” he called. She paused a moment before replying “Maeve” with that she entered further into the forest and disappeared from their sight.  
Thorongil not liking the girl anymore for knowing her name, sat opposite Gandalf who had presently taken up his pipe. He was sending small curling lights into the canopy above as he puffed.  
“She recognised me by sight” said Gandalf thoughtfully, not mentioning what else the girl had said. Thorongil shrugged, Gandalf was well-travelled touching the lives of many, if often only in part or by accident. He therefore felt no shock or reason for alarm at his words and ignored them completely.  
“I will take her to a village; a family could be paid a small price to foster her. She looks to be strong, times are hard and another set of hands would be welcomed by many a family.”  
“I do not think that is where her path lies; there is something strange about Maeve that I cannot quite lay my finger upon. I wish to know more about her first before it is decided how to go about dealing with her. I think for the moment at least, that it would be best if you looked after her.”  
Thorongil leaned in as if to say more, but not wishing to cause another argument, he thought better of it and sat quite. He had no intention of looking after this child no matter what Gandalf thought best.


	4. Questions Before Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me? how do you convince someone that they are only fantasy while trying to convince yourself that your in a dream and that none of this is real...but it does seem so very real!

The day had dawned cool, the sun warming the air slowly as it rose higher in the sky. Thin clouds cast minor shadows on the land below as they were blown across the brown lands and small critters hummed a merry tune as they went about their business. In the depths of Mirkwood, where Maeve unwittingly stood, little of this could be known. The boughs of the black barked trees were thickly entangled, letting little light through the canopy above. The air was chill and stuffy, giving the impression that night was still abroad. The shadows of the forest darkly sinister; seemingly holding a great host of watching eyes.  
Maeve dressed rapidly, shuddering as the chill air brushed her naked skin. Thorongil was obviously a very tall man, his clothes far too large for her hung in baggy patches as she hurried to pull them on. Judging by the smell of them they were obviously not washed oft. It did not overly bother her, after all dream or not, she much preferred to be fully clothed in somewhat odorous clothes, than naked in front of two men.  
The pain she had experienced when waking, had faded to a dull ache, she was glad of this. When fully dressed, her feet bare still, she scrambled back the way she had come, her fear of some hungry beast speeding her along her way. In her haste she gained many a scratch from the reaching branches and clinging brambles.  
Her mind was in turmoil, her stomach sick with anxiety. A panic sitting in her. What the hell was going on here? How the fuck had she managed to end up in this situation? She was sure that just last night she had gone to bed, ready for another boring day at school. What the hell had happened in between? Had she been hit by a car or some shit. What, was she lying on a hospital bed dying, high on drugs and hallucinating some fucked up version of Lord of the Rings? Either that, or she had really eaten something rotten last night. Talk about vivid dreaming! She always had pretty good dreams, but the last time she checked, she didn't feel cold, nor such lifelike conversations in them!  
She stumbled back into the clearing, here the sun shone proudly through a welcome sight for her dazzled eyes. Thorongil and Gandalf sat silent in the centre, their heads bent in thought. She took note of the two horses that grazed on short grass on the side of the main clearing. Dappled grey was one and the other a shade of black with shaggy coat so deep that it seemed to blend in with background of the forest. Both were proud horses, Maeve knew little enough of horses to know that each were fine horses with a good tone, well-muscled.  
“Come child sit here, we have much to discuss” said Gandalf then. Maeve did as he bid, pleased to be fully clothed, although the glance Thorongil had given her as she sat in his clothes was far from thrilled.  
“Foremost on my mind” begun Gandalf, when nothing was said by either her or Thorongil “Is how you came to be here. You see it is most, from what I have heard from Thorongil, you appeared out of thin air, which is most unusual and quite unheard of in these parts”  
Maeve stared at Gandalf unbelieving. “I have no idea what your talking about. All I know is that one minute I was in my bed nice and warm, the next I was walking up cold and lying on grass. It doesn't make any sense.”  
“Indeed?” said Gandalf “you have no memory of how you came from where you lay to here?” she shook her head knowing full well that Gandalf was not satisfied with this answer, his curiosity far from quenched. Across from here Thorongil stirred.  
“You words speak of lies, they are a cover!” said he, voice vulgar. He would sit silent no longer and hear this blasphemy. “You came ‘ere from thin air, no sight nor sound of your arrival but for a flash of light and an uncanny wind. It beckons one to think of sorcery of a kind that is foul, for what power does it take for one to appear suddenly? Truly it must be that you use your magic to sneak upon strangers, and learn of them with your naive face, speaking soft words, until you gain what you need! What things you must learn! Who pray do you tell? Who is your master? Perhaps you work with the master of all grotesque things himself; Sauron? Is he your master? Did he give you promised words of power or wealth? This is the only explanation in my mind, nought else makes sense to I!”  
“Enough!” Gandalf stood, seemingly he grew taller, his face shadowed with anger only a wizard could possess his eyes sparkling with rage at his friend’s rashly spoken words. “Long have I counted you a friend and wise among men! Yet it would seem that your youth still brings you folly! Never have such words been spoken so before me with such unjust cause. You create fantasy to explain that which you don’t understand fully, it is unlike you to miss the obvious, signs sit in front of you plain as a book, this child lies not, she is as confused at her arrival as you or I. Reign in that temper of yours Estel, or all hope will indeed be lost!”  
Thorongil’s gaze before hard as rock, now ashamed. A proud man he was, so it was with strength of will that he bowed his head to Gandalf’s anger and accepted his council.  
Maeve’s heart thrummed within her, respect for the wizard and shock at Thorongil’s deep mistrust of her felt a blow. This man barely knew her, yet he thought her an envoy of the dark lord! A fantasy figure at that! Taught as a bow string she felt, reason still assuring her this was a vivid dream, while her heart sung the truth of what she was experiencing.  
Gandalf lowered himself back down, his strength of before once again veiled. He appeared a tired old man, bent double to sit upon the hard ground, yet Maeve would not easily forget again his true power. Resuming his pipe smoking “Come now child” he said kindly to Maeve. “Do not be afraid, speak you mind, a man’s suspicion can be the demise of him, take no mind of foolish men” he said sending a pointed look towards Thorongil.  
“But trust placed too quickly in an unknown, can lead also to the hurt of oneself, or could indeed be the ruin of many. You see it all the time in books and movies” said Maeve thoughtful. Thorongil sent her a surprised glance from under his brow, at the change of this girls manner of speech. Maeve did not notice it.  
Gandalf wondered at the word movie and what it meant, mayhap another story telling method?  
She said to Thorongil, trying to be a little more elegant in her wording “I understand your anger, although I don’t like being the brunt of” she spoke lightly fearing another eruption “but if it is within you to see from where I stand, I want you to know, that I speak truth, not lies when I say that how I came to be here and in such company is beyond me. As I said before to Gandalf when you weren't here; I know of him. But not merely as a passing rumour or a legend of the land, but as a true fantasy of the world I am from. I mean I'm still convinced that this isn't actually just some drug-induced hallucination; it would make way more sense then it being real. I reckon this is all probably just a dream, and that I’m likely to wake soon. It’s weird though ‘cause they say you dream only thoughs you knows, and I feel like I should know your face, but its just not clicking. Also it’s just a tad to vivid, I feel very confused at all of this. So I’m staring to think this isn't all a dream, but what the hell else could it be?!Last time I checked Gandalf belonged in the fiction of a favourite story of mine, not in front of me.” She sighed heavily, emotion of an unknown kind chocking her. This was all just wrong, to wake now it would seem a wonderful thing.  
“Anyway I've talked enough now, but I have a question for you Thorongil, if you’re so afraid that I am in alliance with Sauron. Which is definitely not possible. Then I ask you this, why fear me so, unless you yourself have something to hide?” silence followed her words, Thorongil regarded this child with thoughtful eyes, half the words she spoke made little sense to him, yet the meaning was still clear. To the others no thought of his could be read, yet Gandalf had a mind as to what he was thinking and that it would take some time before ought was said from him.  
He himself wanted to hear of this girls world where his name lay in writing as fantasy only, and where people spoke as this child did. “Time enough for the continuation of this conversation later. I should think that lunch would do well within us, nought has been consumed since the break of day by any of us and I could well do with a meal” said Gandalf  
As if in answer to Gandalf’s cheery words Maeve's stomach growled low and loud, causing alarm from both Thorongil and Gandalf until the source smiled guiltily with a mumbled ‘sorry!’  
“It would seem you were correct” said Thorongil with a hint of amusement. Here he stood and gathering his implements went to find lunch.  
While Gandalf busied himself pulling a random assortment of herbs of a kind Maeve did not know, she went a way into the forest to relieve her bursting bladder.  
She wandered back to the camp slowly. A worry was upon her, she was not sure how Thorongil had taken her words, and felt there would be more confrontation between them yet. Now given time away from his brooding gaze, Thorongil's face seemed very familiar to her, but still she could not place it. Probably his beard and tangled hair, if removed, she felt sure she would know who he was. Some character from one of the movies. What didn't make sense to her was his name. She did not recall reading of any Thorongil in The Hobbit, nor Lord Of The Rings, or ever hearing of him in the movies. It was a puzzle she could not make sense of.  
She returned to the clearing to find Gandalf humming gaily as he went about making a meal. Soon he burst into full song, his voice not unpleasant, baritone and slightly gruff. It went somewhat like this:

  
 _A quiver fully strung, made taught by limb of young_  
 _Use for hunt of coney, 'Ere sits upon back of son_  
 _Now stomach all full, when the light gone, now cool_  
 _'ere sit one son, lying in the sun, with all well and done._

_Gaily he return, with nought but truth of word_  
 _to court of living tree, where he meet to plead_  
 _outcry! A sudden burst of rage, where be the bow he was sent to play?_  
 _In the instant of the glory, 'ere was left the quiver fully strung_  
 _lost forever amongst the trees, hidden by soft falle leaves_

  
Many weeks after she would find herself humming the catchy tune under her breath, never with the right wording. Gandalf now turned to her, as if noticing her for the first time since she returned.  
“If you are other wise unoccupied would you care to pass that pot sitting on the branch of the tree there” said Gandalf she did as he bid, handing it to him, he inspected it and much to her bemusement handed it back to her.  
“On the other side of the horses there is a small stream that runs clear, fill the pot then place it in the bed of hot coals, if you would please.” she nodded her head once again doing as she was told. Soon the pleasant smell of a nice brew filled the air, for Gandalf had added herbs to the water. When the brew bubbled merrily she removed it from the hotter coal, to keep warm on the outer edge.  
Presently Thorongil arrived back with two large coney's born in one hand. Each had a shaft protruding from their throat, revealing a good aim. He set about preparing the coney’s, skinning and gutting them with an ease found only in those used to living wild. Maeve watched fascinated, having only ever lived in the world we know, she did not often(in her case never), see the process of removing what was indigestible and leaving the edible.  
A feast seemed to appear before her eyes, not what would be called civilised food in her world, but a feast none the less. To her grumbling stomach the food looked to be a sort of heaven, she sat down with great relish when all was ready, hands grabbing fistfuls of air to contain in part her desire to simply shove food in with no manners at all. They ate as starved men do, although they were far from that point merely hungry. A feast of nuts, roots Gandalf had brought from his bags, and coal roasted coney’s consumed all thought of the three. They ate until not a crumb was left, this largely due to Thorongil and Gandalf who continued on well after Maeve was filled to the brim.  
After they sipped at the herbal brew Gandalf had prepared, feeling much refreshed for their stuffed stomachs. Maeve lay flat staring to the clouds that were visible through the gap in the canopy. She felt much more at peace and accepting of the situation now her hunger was for-filled. She felt she could handle what was to come with more control than before. A little less panic, it was beginning to fell more and more that this was all real.  
At length they gathered their wits and as if decided by them all, begun to clear away the remains of the feast, Maeve able to help clean, insisted on doing all of the few dishes. Once done they gathered around the fire again a more relaxed atmosphere this time. Both Thorongil and Gandalf now puffed on pipes, smoke billowing and filling the clearing, Gandalf's occasionally bright with colour. The smell was almost appealing to Maeve who ordinarily disliked any kind of cigarettes or smoke.  
Thorongil sat lost in thought, Maeve watched him, weary, unbidden he begun to speak.  
“I fear that Gandalf spoke right of me, and your question lies not far from the truth” said Thorongil softly. Haltingly he continued “of late I have felt weighed by bitterness and anger that cometh unbidden to me. I feel despair at this world swelled with evil, and I question when the days of laughter and mirth will come again. When trust can be given more freely and fear of betrayal is not a cloak about me. My only hope seems a far land that can be strode to on only the lightest feet, treading carefully upon narrow road, weary of death of all kinds on either side” he stopped for a moment as if contemplating his own words and what next to speak.  
“Such is my dark thoughts that I see the enemy in all but a few I trust from old, so it is that I walk with name that is not my own, bidding all thoughts that know me to speak it only. So it is that I fear a child, now plain for me to see that is no danger to ought.” He lifted his gaze now, years melted from his before furrowed brow. Then she did see and know who sat before her, she sat in silent wonder. Thorongil continued “The name Thorongil was given to me by friends of Rohan only, I had also bore another name for many a year given to me by the elves who raised me. Estel they called me, meaning 'hope' in their fair language. Alas I do not know what hope one such as I can give them. Neither of these is my true name, that was hidden for my safety until I was old enough to understand the nature it. ”  
She did not know of what he spoke, in her time this man, evidently younger here, was fully grown and confident in his self. As he spoke Maeve whispered softly under her breath his name, not expecting to be heard. But Indeed Thorongil and Gandalf both did hear having sharp ears.  
Thorongil halted his speech, he had but almost said his true name himself, yet the girl had uttered it, as if already knowing. Gandalf chortled having seen the change in the girls eyes and expecting it. He had wondered quietly to himself if, knowing him, she would know the true identity of Thorongil. Thorongil less prepared, now again suspicion clouding his gaze “I had not yet uttered my name and yet now I find you know of it. how come you by my name?” he demanded of her, his anger biting as a whiplash. She stared at him defiantly. Not willing to be intimidated again.  
“Your name is one of legend in the books I read in my world, Aragorn, son of Arathorn” she said as scornfully as she could muster, no tolerance for this man’s unpredictable moods.“I know your name in the same way that I know Gandalf's. I didn't actually recognise you at first, for, well lets just say, that you look a bit different from the way I know you.. The mystery of your name made no sense to me also, I know not of any Thorongil, you always had the name Strider , if wishing to go unknown or your own. But now that you spoke yourself of hiding your true name, revealing, I don't know, something that I didn't see before, I finally understood why you were so damn familiar to me!  
He regarded her guardedly; his pipe now abandoned in his hands “I know not of this title strider, only what I before told you. How did I look so different from what you know? How is it, that from a book, you can know so well of how I look? You speak of another world, is this land far across the sea? How can you know of Gandalf and I then, if you do not come from this land?! Most important to I, is how in this other land you came to know of my name? how it was written in the first place? few know of it. Gandalf and the elves being the only, and they I know would not speak it unless given my consent.  
Before she could answer Gandalf who had gone unnoticed by the both for a time, interjected “I am curious indeed to hear about this other land. Thorongil, or should I say Aragorn” he said with a mirthful little smile “speaks in part for me, you seem to know a great deal about us, yet we know little of you or yours. Share now, let us hear of this world you speak of, this other land you come from and the story it speaks of us. It cannot be so far different of our own. Mayhap we will find an explanation that fits. You say you know Aragorn and I let us hear how! Also you spoke before of a movie' he said pronouncing the word strange “what is it?”  
The calls of the few birds within Mirkwood could be heard in the silence after his words. Unsure of how to approach what she was now expected to say. “ Well, I don't really know where to start” said she “to explain even that of movie to you, will be interesting indeed, I mean my world is completely different!” she looked to Gandalf, to see what he would say. It was however Aragorn who spoke.  
“Speak then of your lands and people.” said he. She gazed at him a moment, then having a topic begun. She spoke stumbling at first, talking of the world she knew so well, but would be alien to them. The immensity of the task, made her realise she would have to leave much out. She started with humans, speaking of how no elves, nor dwarves or magical creature of any kind existed. Gandalf unable to believe this would ask questions such as: “ Hobbit's never did like the big people, in your land they may be especially crafty at hiding, avoiding your sight, surely they are there?” or “the trees are often forgot, Ents may rome your land yet.” To each Maeve would do her best to explain how, or why these did not exist in her land, and if they did there were very few. When Gandalf could think of no more questions of this matter to ask, he sat back, rather stunned, muttering to himself “not even a wizard, how do they cope!” Aragorn sat still and silent. He had not uttered a word, keeping himself wrapped in brooding silence, preferring to keep his thoughts to himself.  
Deciding it was best to answer Gandalf's question on how she knew of them, she then moved on to the more complicated problem of explaining the idea of electricity to them. She knew that to even get to the subject of movie's, she would have to explain at least a little of science and such.  
She begun with talks of fires and light that would be at least familiar to them. She gained looks of disapproval from Thorongil, who obviously had taken offence at her words, perhaps thinking she thought them dumb. From there she begun to introduce the idea of electricity. It was no easy matter, to explain something that was taken for granted by you, to those who the concept was quite simply mind blowing. It didn't help that in truth her knowledge of the science behind electricity and the like, was very limited. None the less, she did her best, speaking of a range of things from light, to household appliances, and then moving on to things such as cars.  
Aragorn at this point became more interested, asking questions of his own. About if weather these cars and such were alive, how they fitted in with daily lives and what had happened to the older modes of transport such as horses. Each of his questions she answered patiently, trying her best not to get frustrated at his demanding, haughty manner.  
Gandalf who had now sat silent for a time digesting all this information, insisted that this 'electricity and science' was a 'magic of a kind.' He was quite adamant about it, no thing Maeve could say convincing him until quite by accident she mentioned the damage these things could have on the environment. He then shook his head and said gruffly “I was quite wrong. No magic, that lives in the world day to day, would ever allow itself to be used in a manner that it hurt the world around it unless welded by powerful mind.”  
For a time she said no more, letting both men soak in the new ideas and possibilities she had given them. “It could almost be real.... almost” she thought to herself.  
When she felt the time was right she began to introduce, what before she had not mentioned. Cameras and their ability to take pictures and movies.  
This proved to be the most difficult for them to accept. Out of everything, cars, planes, electricity and the fact that the more magical creatures of middle earth didn't exist in her world. This caused the most arguments. It didn't help that Maeve could not explain it beyond what it did. She herself wasn't sure how cameras worked. She of course had basic ideas, but certainly didn't understand the full concept.  
There were a few minor heated exchanges between her and Aragorn. The worst of which he insisted that no such thing could exist, until she pointed out that paintings could be done. So why could her world, full of machines that replaced many other things (like horses) could not have something that takes painting to. Just a little quicker. Along with a few stern words from Gandalf, his temper was cooled.  
From here, once they understood the basic principal of cameras, she explained movies. How they took books and transformed them into real action that people could watch. She mentioned that Gandalf and Aragorn were part of a series, being very important characters. She did not however speak of the fellowship of the ring, nor mention the ring or any of what she knew at all. Caution held her back. She was beginning to think this was not the Aragorn she knew, but a much younger version. After all he had spoken of hiding his true heritage from prying eyes, and he had thought her a envoy of sauron. She could only guess that it was before the time of the ring. Although she could not tell how much before. Aragorn, being of the kings line, looked to be only forty when he was eighty, or so said the book. Who knew how old he was here. Even Gandalf, the ageless wizard, to her eyes seemed a little less lined.  
By the time all was said, Maeve exhausted, her mouth dry and stomach empty, night had fallen. The leaves of the canopy blew in a slight breeze. Clouds covered what few stars could be seen through the gap and the only sound was the occasional snort from the horses.  
They sat cocooned in a shell of silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The immensity of what had been said by Maeve, processing within Aragorn and Gandalf. It is not an easy thing, to be told that in one world you exist as fantasy only. Or that another beyond the world known, even exists. Maeve being from a world filled with rich stories and imaginations of many kinds, which she had read many different ideas of, had more of a chance to be prepared. This was not so for the others. Even one as wise as Gandalf, who had not altogether removed the idea of other worlds, found it an astounding thing.  
Eventually the needs of the body roused them from their apparent slumber of thought. Once this was taken care of, a merger supper of nuts was consumed and then unanimously agree, they settled down for slumber. Maeve wrapped herself in Aragorn's cloak, which he had given to her with a mumbled words of “you will need it for the cold” she had accepted it gratefully. Now even fully clothed and wrapped within its confines, she felt the chill piercing through, and was glad of it again.  
Sleep would not come easily. The ground was hard beneath her back, accustomed to the mellow feel of a mattress. Bugs of the biting kind swarmed around her, searching for any bare skin. Sounds of the forest, wind in the trees, animals, small or large she could not tell, sent fear and frightful images of horrible creatures running around in her head. The only consolation being the heavy breathing of the deeply asleep men. Even that did little.  
At one point, she opened her eyes from another attempt at sleep only to find herself staring into a glowing pair of eyes. Terror set in, she could not move, wishing to call out, but no sound leaving her lips. The eyes seemed to move, closer, or to the left or right, her panicked gaze never left them. It was not until she realised that the bright glowing coals of the fire kept the animal outside the ring of light it created, that she begun to breathe normally again.  
With a will of effort she turned her back to the eyes and did her best to ignore the images her mind was showing her of the creature creeping up behind her. At some point exhaustion took hold, falling into a deep sleep.  
Unrealised to her, Gandalf had in fact been keeping watch while wrapped in his blankets. He had noted the eyes, but was not alarmed, no creature of evil intent would pass this place. He sat well into the night, mulling over all that had been said that day. Not often was he presented with such large amounts of unknown information, and certainly not of the kind he had heard that day. He thought it lucky that the girl had appeared where she had, it would not of been easy, to land in a place unknown. He had a mind to think that it was not a coincidence at all.  
Still, now she was here, she must be delt with. There was no clear way to send her home. So to help her find life here was his main task. This is what he spent longest on. It would be hard for a female of this land to make her way in this world, but for one who knew nought of the land at all? She would last little. Many options he considered, but only one seemed the logical path, only one felt right. It may not have been by design of the child that she came here, but as it was, there was a hint of fate of her arrival.  
Decision made, he sunk into the world of sleep, tomorrow, the adventure of the girl would truly begin.


	5. A Hasty Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will happen in the dark depths of Mirkwood? *ghost wail*

Maeve woke to the raised voices of Aragorn and Gandalf. She sat up squinting into the first light of day. Eyes adjusting, she beheld Gandalf standing one the verge of the clearing leading his grey mare which was fully laden. “I have lingered her long enough and had only ever meant to stop by to impart what you now know.” Said Gandalf  
“You cannot go now, and you certainly can’t leave the girl in my care, long have I yet to travel!” replied Aragorn anger filling his words.  
“I can and I am, I have the upmost confidence you will look after her, and I’m sure she will do you some good!” Standing up she hesitantly approached, wishing to know what was about. She had no wish to see Gandalf leave, yet a part of her was not at all surprised.  
Before Aragorn could impart further argument, she spoke “Are you leaving Gandalf?” they turned to her, neither surprised at her sudden appearance. Gandalf smiled kindly at her.  
“Yes child I have other business to attend to, so it must be that I depart, although I feel I could learn much from you yet. You have given me much to think on. No one so young as ever done quite as well as you, in fact I don’t think anyone ever has. Still I leave you in the fine company of Aragorn, I have bid him to look after you, but I ask of you now to watch over him” Aragorn looked as if to protest “he is stubborn, with temper to match, but I think he will be better with company. Now ‘ere I go, may it be we meet again young one”  
The words barely left his lips, when he gave a firm pull on his mare’s lead rope and walked into the forests beckoning arms. Many nights to come she would sit mulling over had it turned out better if she had followed Gandalf, even if it had been to his ill will.  
Aragorn stood, furrow on his brow, she could sense barely contained rage. A sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumped. Here he turned to her. “It be best if we followed his path, I wish no longer to stay within the confines of this cursed forest, come we will pack and be ready to leave within the hour”  
He waited for no acknowledgment turn to the task he had set. It took little longer than an hour to be ready, the wood pile had to be replenished, this consumed the longest time. Maeve searching for fallen limb of tree, small enough to be used as firewood. Once done she was of little use, standing helpless as Aragorn filled saddle bags with his few possessions. She had nothing of her own to add, having ‘appeared’ naked, something that still caused her uncertainty. Although coming to believe this could be real, a part within her felt this was a drug induced dream.  
Still there was naught she could do but follow to the end of this dream, and see where it led her, she could think of worse things to be dreaming of.  
Once all was well and done, Aragorn’s fair steed laden with what little there had been, he turned again to her. “A half day’s march it takes for me to reach here, it will doubtless take longer now, no I do not offer offence to you girl” for Maeve had gone to raise her voice in anger at this presumption, he continued “Mirkwood is a hard place to navigate, there are many foul things that run wild here, it be not an easy path to tread even for I, who have walked among these trees before.”  
“Mirkwood?” she questioned “is that where we are?” She felt a small tinge of fear, followed by a sense of location that she hadn’t felt before. She could not remember fully the map Tolkien had incorporated into his stories, but she knew Mirkwood lay east of the misty mountains and north of Rohan and Gondor. Of course being nearer to Erebor, the lonely mountain, which The Hobbit spoke much of.  
“You know of it?” said Aragorn. “What words do your stories speak of such a place I wonder?”  
“It was described as a rather evil place” replied Maeve “Aside from the elves of course. I must admit it does not seem half as bad as I imagined it”  
“That is because” said Aragorn with a grim chuckle “this is a place that is protected from the worse of the malice in the forest, a hint of what once was still lingers here. “ he glanced at Maeve and seeing interest on her face, continued.  
“It was not always that Mirkwood was as it is now, or obviously as you read it. It was said that you could wander under the trees, joy in your step and gladness in your heart. Elves and other creatures roamed the wood freely having many a glade filled with fruit and plant of kind lost now to the world. Here they would welcome all with mischievous smile, filling empty stomach and mind with glorious food. When one woke, to find glade gone no sign of feast from before, lost within the hold of the forest, they would have not to fear. For eventually, by no will of their own, they were led to the verge of the forest, where they could find their own way home.” He sighed eyes clouding again, filmed by bleakness that Maeve had not noticed before, but had lay there. “These were the times of good, times long past, never to come again”  
Abruptly he spun away from her, striding to his horse. “Enough, time is spent, let us leave. Keep your wits about you child, for although we travel in day, you know not what you will see!” With these final words he marched into the confines of Mirkwood.  
Maeve scrambled after him, drawing the cloak Aragorn had bid she keep tightly about her. Although the sun shone brightly in the clearing, the trees of Mirkwood shadowed the remainder of the forest. Foreshadowing a dismal journey.  
The going was hard no easy path clear in the close undergrowth. Aragorn remained several meters ahead, carving a path through bush and bramble. For Maeve the difficulty lay in preserving her feet, neither Aragorn nor Gandalf had any spare shoes to lend her, and although her feet were unusually tough, they were certainly not immune. She trode carefully, jumping lightly over fallen branch or sharp stone, none the less stepping on many a stick, bush or hidden rock. Her clumsy path gained many a dark glance from Aragorn.  
Despite Aragorn’s words of caution their journey through the forest was met with no challenge. After a time Maeve stopped glancing over her shoulder ever few moments in fear of pursuit or the creature that paced the outer edges of the fire during the night. A sense of lightness begun to grow within her, although unsure where she was headed, she felt for the most part at peace with where she found herself now.  
Dark as the forest was there was still much life within its confines. This became more apparent as the sun rose above the thick canopy, birds of many kinds stirred, calling to each other in merry tune. They continued in this manner for several hours, Maeve although no longer in fear of the forest, was feeling the strain of the pace Aragorn was setting. Hunger begging to rear its untimely head.  
It was just beyond mid day when the last of the trees was left behind, leaving them standing on the edge of a wide plane. Here Aragorn stopped, and turned to Maeve breaking his silence of the walk. ‘We have reached the brownlands’. Maeve was loath to question him, but she wondered where the brownlands were in comparison to that of all else in middle earth. She had vague memory of the place, but without a map in front of her she had no sense in where she was.  
‘Hither our path lies southwest to the realm of Gondor.” Continued Aragorn. “I go in hope of serving as a man of Gondor. A long road lies ahead, and it would seem that given your predicament, weather all you’ve spoken real or no, you will follow where I go.” 

He looked now pointedly at her, his gaze hooded with mistrust, it seemed that it would take more than a few well-spoken words and ideas of other worlds to break the unjust hostility he held towards her. Loath was she to think of this long journey ahead, her stomach grumbling softly in complaint at the idea, however at present she thought it best to do as he said and nodded briskly.  
Seemingly pleased with her agreement Aragorn turned now to his saddlebags, withdrawing from its confines two strips of unknown origins, that looked somewhat like shrivelled leather. One of these he handed to Maeve who accepted it in uncertainty.  
Seeing her confusion Aragorn promptly placed his own strip into his mouth, showing its purpose. She stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to eat this,” said she “what the hell is it?”  
“It’s the cured rump of an oxen, sustenance for the remainder of our journey “ she grunted in repulsion. “There is no way I am eating that!”  
“eat it or go hungry” was his only reply. She looked at the meat with distain, hesitantly placing it in her mouth, beginning to chew it softly. Aragorn watched face passive while her face changed to a grimace of disgust. Maeve thought she saw a hint of amusement in his shrouded eyes. “Its delicious” she managed to spit out between her furiously chewing mouth. He snorted, placed his own ration into his mouth, before turning towards the north, or what Maeve assumed to be the north.  
She knew that a long march lay ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently not much....Well that was boring


	6. The Brownlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short little segment (like very short!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can Maeve keep up with the pace that Aragorn sets? also what is this nightmare?

They travelled for the remainder of that day. Little of important happened, the planes were undulating in ever direction. To Maeve whose feet were entirely to soar for her liking they seemed never ending a type of hell. Aragorn himself said little, Maeve wanted to ask where they were headed, but thought it best to remain quite. Although she found herself still seemingly full, it grew apparent that soon she would be in need of water. She attempted to ignore her growing need, but eventually she had to relent and ask the stony Aragon if there was anything she could drink. He scowled at her in manner that made her wonder if he thought of her as annoying pet that he now found himself the sole carer of. None the less he drew a small water flask from within one of his saddle bags begrudgingly handing it over. She took a few cautious sips under his gaze before holding it out for him to have back. He grunted “keep it, tie that cord around your waste” Maeve nodded wide eyed doing as he said so. It nestled nicely about her waste, its size meaning that it wasn’t a burden of any kind. “Thank you” Aragorn nodded his head stiffly. The sun was close to being swallowed by the expanse of the brownlands, when Aragorn finally decided to relent in the days travels. They set up a small camp, if it could be called that. There was little wood that could be used to make a fire so they were resigned to a cold evening. Aragorn relieved his horse of its burden, stroking it and displaying a tenderness that Maeve as of yet hadn’t seen. She smiled at this display of affection, pleased to see that he wasn’t entirely as heartless as he attempted to be. Once he was obviously pleased with his horse’s comfort he attended to his other charge. He handed her another strip of the cured ox, which surprisingly had kept her satisfied throughout the day. Useful indeed if not entirely unappealing to eat. However this time he also gave her a selection of small dried berries. She accepted them gratefully. She ate the strip, once again carefully chewing it, noticing that it made her jaw stiff and soar to do so. Once done she ate a few of the berries, enjoying the much sweeter taste compared to the bitter one that the strips provided. She had noticed earlier in the day that the water flask that Aragorn had given her also had a small selection of pockets. She utilised one now placing a few of the berries into one of the pockets. She figured it would be useful to have something to munch on if her mouth got dry. They settled down for the night. Maeve wearied by the consistent days travel fell asleep surprisingly fast for her usual insomniac habits. She woke several times in the night, fear and pain causing her to sit bolt upright before cringing in even more pain at her sudden movement. One her last occasion she felt her bladder was close to busting and was forced to relieve herself a fair distance from the where Aragorn slept, to embarrassed to imagine the possibly of him stumbling upon her. The moon was receding to a new moon. Its faint glimmer bathed the plane in a pleasant light, Maeve found herself grinning madly up at the moon, before she wondered what the hell she was doing and quickly pulled her pants up. She grimaced as she lay down again and wondered again where this pain had sprung. It didn’t seem to emanate from any area in particularly, merely evolving all regions of her body, and it seemed to only rear its ugly head in the depths of the night. Her last hours of sleep were restless and disturbed dreams of sinister nature plaguing her.

_A beast had her, its monstrosrous claws grasping at her back. It enveloped her, consumed her. Its foul claws tearing into her chest and ripping her apart. She screamed but none heard. Let me out, let me consume you, let us be one. The beast whispered at her, its mind voice tearing her apart. It hurt pain blooming. She wrenched herself away from those claws and ran stumbling through forest. it followed. Now pleading, now demanding. It made little sense. Mist curled about her. she wondered now lost in a grave yard. Hands clawed at her from the moist dirt. She screamed and ran, but it was no use the beast was almost upon her again, her trail of blood leading it on, driving it mad. Frantically she plunged on unknown things tearing at her now, so much pain her body was being torn apart from within and without, but the beast didn’t have her yet. But soon it would. Terror filled her._

She woke in the morning with no recollection of her nightmare her body blissfully free of pain.


	7. Home is behind, the world is ahead. (Oh! how the lonely lament!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The march in the brownlands in horrible detail (terribly boring I know)   
> *munches on cake*   
> Ooooo also some trouble between the two. Can Maeve deal with a grumpy man?

On the seventh day of their slog over the barren lands of the brownlands Aragorn called a stop midday Maeve's had been expecting the stop soon and sank gracefully to the ground removing her boots to massage her soar feet. Aragorn was nothing if not punctual, a set pattern had developed over the course of their march. Rise with the sun, walk until lunch, stop with the receding sun. Maeve’s nights had also taken on a familiar pattern. She would rise twice two relieve herself, gaze at the moon, attempt to ignore her growing pain and finally lie down to sleep for the final morning hours before she would have to rise again. The final time she lay down nightmares would ensue.

She never remembered what they entailed only that she woke with a keen sense of foreboding, fear residing in her chest, coupled with a gladness that the pain never leaked into her daily schedule. She didn’t think she would be able to walk, as she had been if that had been the case.

The days themselves were hard, Aragorn kept a constant pace, that in the begging had come close to breaking her. For the first three days she had attempted to keep tears at bay all the while trying to keep up. She thought about her other life constantly. Was her mother missing her? did they think she was dead. Or was this still one massive trip? Maybe someone had slipped her some new crazy drug; of she was defiantly in a coma. One or the other. None the less she couldn’t help but think that this was all somehow real.

She missed her life with a keen pang. It was not an easy life (or at least hadn’t seemed to her). she was a high school student, sixteen years of age but studying in year 11, meaning she was a year younger than the rest of her classmates. Her birthday was in January so it wasn’t to harsh. Her parents were still together but they had been fighting constantly for almost a year making school more a blessing taking her away from her turbulent home life.

Her older brother was a pain, she had a few friends who spoke of their brothers with affection, but in her case this was far from the truth. They had close to one of the most fraught relationships she had ever heard of. It was hard for her to even be around him in the few classes they shared, Maeve having picked up a few year twelve subjects, let alone deal with him at home.

But as each day passed where she found herself in the company of this grumbling, angry, suspicious man that was little like the Aragorn she remembered reading about in her favourite books, she found she even missed the sour company of her brother.

However her legs were adjusting, she no longer woke every morning with incredibly soar muscles. They were slowly starting to strengthen with stamina. It was still hard, especially considering how little they were eating. She snorted to herself she could all but feel her last layers of stubborn fat (that she had tried so hard to remove with diets and plenty of gym) begin to melt away. (It was comical as it reminded her of one particular doctor who episode she had once watched. )

As they stopped for ‘lunch’ Maeve noticed that their usual schedule was broken, something was different. Aragorn did not immediately hand her a strip of the coarse meat. Instead he seemed to adjust Erȅabra’s (she finally worked up the courage to ask after the steeds name) saddle before pacing about restlessly.

She watched in confusion as Aragorn suddenly bent to the ground, pressing his ear firmly to the ground. Maeve recalled vaguely the scene in LOTR where Aragorn had done just that, he had however been in pursuit of the orcs on that occasion.

Maeve suddenly got the crazy notion that perhaps they were hunting some foul enemy, and as much as the idea was exciting in the terms of heroic adventures she realised that, if were they to come face to face with some foul beast, or magical creature with ill intent she would have no way to defend herself. She would be useless, likely getting in Aragorn’s way, or perhaps just dying.

For the first time since she had found herself in the curious company of Aragorn and Gandalf she realised just how over her head she was. She didn’t mind the walking, or the open aired camping, she done a fair bit of that stuff with her family, but she was in a completely different world now. There was so much she didn’t understand or know. Creatures and dangers that were literally just fiction in her world.

She had still been feebly clinging to the notion that this was some drug induced coma dream, she had mulled over the possibility that perhaps if she were to die here then she might wake up there.

It hit her for the first time that there was no way that could be the case. And even if it was she didn’t want to tempt fate. What if she was to die here and die in that coma she had been imaging as well? After all if her mind thinks its dead then wouldn’t her body die as well?

She resolved to ask Aragorn later that night if he could perhaps teach her some skills of survival. Hell she didn’t even recognise half the plants they passed or many of the bugs that plagued her at night. If Aragorn were to leave she would surely die in a few days, she wouldn’t even know what direction to go.

Before she could continue her thought process Aragorn stood abruptly up from his former position against the ground. He turned to her now, grim in expression.

“We approach a branch in our journey, although it may as of yet not be clear to you, it is to me.” He gestured in the direction that they had before been walking steadily towards. Half a day days ride west is the Aunduin the great river of this land and beyond that the field of celebrant lies. Before I had considered returning to Lorien for a time, but now time is short and I think it would be wise to head east to Rohan. My mind is torn however and I cannot decide between the two.” He swung now into his saddle. “I find that it be nesscacary that I leave you for a time ” at Maeve's dismayed, fearful look he attempted to console her fears.

 “I will not be gone long, three days at most. If we are to head to Lorien like I previously planned I need to make certain that the path I wish to take is clear.” Aragorn reached into his saddlebags withdrawing a small blade, no more than a knife and several of the tough leather strips as well as the remaining dried berries. He handed each to Meave who accepted them without word.

Aragorn shifted impatiently in his saddle Erȅabra pawing the ground under him, anticipation in her movements now. “I doubt you will find trouble out here. However if you need it that knife is of elven make. Be sparing with your food and water, in case I am delayed.” He finished adding as an afterthought, don’t be afraid” the words awkward of his usually guff tongue.

Maeve nodded. With nothing left to say having departed all he could to the girl Aragorn nodded his head then wheeled Erȅabra's head around, kicking her into a light canter. Maeve stood silent watching Aragorn’s receding figure, shocked at the suddenness of her new predicament.

She let out a large sigh and proceeded to make the area she was now to be staying for the next few days as possible. Like the rest of the brownlands the area was devoid of all but the smallest shrubs, which were pitifully weak at best.

The ground here at least was soft to sit upon, other places they had stopped had been terribly hard, obviously baked compact by the sun when it did rear its head over the grey clouds that so oft lounged in the sky.

The remainder of the afternoon passed slowly, Maeve attempted to pass the time by carefully organising her few possessions. Her (water flask) she placed under on of the shrubs, Aragorn had refilled it for her in the morning as usual from his apparent endless supply of water. she wondered if she could possibly make the small (satuel) last three days or more. She supposed she would have to.

The berries Aragorn had given her she counted for lack of things to do. There were 8 that looked vaguely like blueberries, 7 red ones and 4 bright orange ones that were the bitterest of the lot. The strips she placed neatly in another of the pockets, as an afterthought ripping a small section off one and munching on it.

Out of everything she spent most time examining the blade that Aragorn had given her. The sheath that it was in was old, rotting in places. It belayed the holder into thinking that the blade itself would be in no better condition. Instead as she removed it from its sheath she held her breath at its beauty. she estimated that it was around 30 centimetres long the handle encompassing ten centimetres leaving the blade the remaining 20 centimetres.

It was intricately carved, with runes and vines winding along the blade, the handle spiralled with roses. The blade had the slightest blue sheen to its other wise silver colour.

 Maeve discovered early on its sharpness when she rubbed her forefinger along its length only to receive a relatively minor, yet deep, cut.

She spent the remainder of the afternoon thinking about the possibility of going to Lorien. She remembered the tree city of the elves well. It was described as a truly magical place indeed. A faint thrill of excitement went though her. To see elves would be awe-inspiring.

The days passed at an antagonisingly slow rate. Leaving her far to much time to consider the situation she was in over and over again. Throughout the day she would have to fight off her fear that Aragorn wouldn’t come back, at night she fought to keep her nightmares away.  By the third night her water was running out despite her best efforts to ration it.

This factor bought tears to her eyes the idea of dying thanks to dehydration alone with none knowing what happened to her too much.

She still had plenty of the meat strips and a few of the berries enough for another two days at least, her paranoia sat like a heavy weight in her chest. Aragorn had said three days at most. What if he had been hurt? Something had gone wrong? Or he had just decided that he didn’t want to come back for her. Perhaps she should consider walking after him.

She began to cry in earnest at the idea of wandering alone and lost without decent food or water. She didn’t wish to be here any longer. She missed her friends, her life, and her family even; she missed the arguments between her parents, the endless pile of homework. Fuck she even missed her stupid guppy.

When she managed to reign in her outburst small sobs still wracking her body she tried to think more rationally.

He had said the river was a half a days ride away, a day trek, two at most. She could make it there, at least there would be water, and perhaps even edible vegetation. But then what if Aragorn did come back and they happened to miss each other as she walked towards the river?

Unresolved in her actions still biting back sniffles she lay down readying herself for sleep. Some of her older sleeping patterns had returned with the lack of activity throughout the days. So it was that she lay immobile for close to an hour her mind ticking over before sleep and her nightmares finally clamed her.

_….She stood precariously positioned over a great chasm, a withered old oak her only barrier between her and death. The beast tore through the undergrowth of the great forest behind her. Coming to rest at the beginning of the log. It roared its fury its wings outstretched to great lengths, its mouth open to reveal its sharply gleaming teeth. She clung to the oak in terror, she shook with the fear and with the pain that she new was to come._

_It stopped its triumphant burgle and turned its gaze on her, beginning to pace along the length of the oak towards her. She took a deep breath, her thoughts jamming to a stop, for the beast eyes were filled not with anger, nor lust but sympathy, compassion and empathy. One we must be one, cannot be separate much longer, came its tumbling thoughts. She screamed as it stood above her and impaled her on its claws, rejecting its thoughts…_

She woke in a faint sheen of sweat, her body shivering out of her control. The sun was rising in a usually clear sky. A wicker caused her to sit up to see a lightly resting Erȅabra, swathed close to her swaying form a sleeping Aragorn lay.

Maeve stood up quietly to relieve herself, immensely glad that she found herself in the company of Aragorn again her fears dropping away from her. When she returned she found him smoking his pipe back turned to her to give her privacy. She came to a halt behind him unsure what to say.

He spoke for her. “The pathway to Lorien is blocked by a large tangle of deadwood, its close to impassable. I explored other options which in turn caused my delay” he turned to her. “it seems that our path lies future east to Rohan.”

She nodded allowing a faint smile to grace her features, because although she was disappointed about not being able to meet the elves, she also equally loved the horse lords of the planes, remembering fondly Eomer.

She couldn’t help but ask, “How long will it take us to reach Rohan?” Aragorn looked at her seriously considering her question before answering.

“It will be nigh on a two months, if we had another horse it would take considerably less time, but at the moment that is a luxury we don’t have access to.” Maeve nodded her head in understanding. Aragorn must of felt frustrated with their snails pace, she felt once again grateful that he hadn’t abandoned her as he had once threatened.  

“Are you rested enough?”

“Yes” adding cheekily “I am eager indeed to move off” he frowned at her. “Best we continue then”

She felt unusually light that day as they walked, her good spirits undampened by Aragorn’s sour mood, instead soaring to new heights. He snapped at her several times that day on account of her gay humming or slight singing. Yet despite his constant reprimands she couldn’t help but continually begin to sing softly under her breath. It was good to be in the company of another again even if only Aragorn.

Eventually Aragorn yielded to snapping at her, withdrawing into an ever-fouler mood. Before when he had done such a thing Maeve had been entirely cautions of him. Now she found it amusing, unable to stop thinking how much he must be grumbling to himself about being stuck with an ‘annoying young teenager’

That night they made camp she felt like she could almost hear the rushing sound of a large river. Her light spirits of earlier had faded leaving her pensive, again thinking on the topic of her situation. She looked over to a brooding Aragorn regretting her child like behaviour of the day. Yet one question weighted heavily on her mind.

Aragorn had reclaimed his elven blade, leaving Maeve feeling defenceless again. She had noted Aragorn’s own sword was still firmly buckled to his side. It had left her with a new idea. What is she could get him to teach her in the art of swordsman ship? Or perhaps archery? It would be an effect way to protect herself if she could learn enough and perhaps become recompense for Aragon’s help. She could venture the land with him.

With these fancies on her mind she eventually managed to work up the courage to ask.

He stared at her stunned at her question; as if unable to comprehend she had just asked such a thing. She ignored his wordlessness and pushed on

“If I were able to defend myself I could perhaps leave you and find my own way.”

“The sword is a difficult weapon to master, archery requiring an even firmer hand. I do not think it would be wise to teach you such things”

“Why” she asked aghast

“Because it is not an activity suited to a woman”

“That’s bullshit!” she all but yelled unable to believe how sexist he was.

A flash of shock at her outburst passed across his face before being replaced by anger. “It requires serious training and commitment, and strength that women simply does not possess”

“So you’re saying the women aren’t as good as men then?”

“No I am simply saying that men are built to wield the sword in a way that women are not. Woman are better suited in other fields”

“What, cleaning the house and making pretty pictures” she quipped sarcastically “just because women have a lighter build does not in any way compromise their ability to learn that which a man can. Aragorn went to protest but she cut him off before he could “the elves have females that learn the crafts of the blade do they not?”

“Yes but..”

“So why is it that I am an less able to learn such as them?”

“Because elves are naturally stronger, their blades being lighter and of better make to suit the female form”

“But that doesn’t mean that…”

“I will not teach you and that is finial”

Maeve huffed furiously and stormed off to sit by herself.

He watched her go with some misgivings. It wasn’t that Aragorn didn’t think she could weild or learn to use a sword effectively, it was clear she had muscle as it was, along with determination…it was just it felt wrong to teach a woman such a brutal art. Battle was not a pleasant thing. He knew this first hand.

She felt incredibly angry with Aragorn. It was his right to choose if he wished to teach her or not, yet his reasons for not wanting to were totally unjust and biased.

She hated men like that, who thought women were incapable of doing that which men could do. Her father had brought her up to be strong and independent, she didn’t believe that men were any better than women, nor did he think that women were better than men.

She could acknowledge that men that were stronger physically, but this didn’t to her didn’t affect the fact that women could be strong and train well. It had been proven over and over. Or at least at home it had. So many strong feminie figures fighting back the oppressing ways of the males.

If Aragorn wouldn’t teach her to use a blade she would attempt to learn herself, find a good stick at least. She didn’t think it would do much good, but she was too stubborn to concede entirely to his will.

She slept there that night refusing to move back into the vicinity of Aragorn. 


	8. Roads go ever on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whats this a river? A big one too.  
> Also stubborn girls must learn

They set off in an uncomfortable silence the next morning. By midday the sound of the river ahead was unmistakable. She felt herself relax at the thought of something other than the barren planes of the brownlands. Already the ground was covered with softer more inviting shrubs. A bird flew over her head causing her to smile for the first time that day.

Another hour passed swiftly to find them perched on the banks of the Anduin. The sounds of its glorious waters filling the very essence of Maeve's being. She hadn’t released how she had missed the sight of something so entirely alive.

The Anduin was possibly the largest river she had ever laid her eyes on. The entirety of its girth was so large that Maeve could only just make out a faint smudge that looked somewhat like a small forest on the adjacent side. It’s magnanimous depths roaring over the scattered rocks in its width. Unaware that it was flood season, when the Anduin flowed fastest. Maeve stood in awe, incohievly aware of the driftwood being torn down stream unable to believe its speed.

Yet as she stood their longer listening, taking in its being she began to notice the small as well. The thousand different voices created by the different layers of water. Creatures and critters flying in and about its presence. Shurbs, trees and tiny flowers making the river a whole picture.

It was utterly and entirely compelling to Maeve's unusually wild spirit (for that of earths people anyhow)

‘Its beautiful’ she said softly. Aragorn smiled slightly

“The Anduin is the greatest river in middle earth. It runs off the Misty Mountains all the way down to the Bay of Belfalas. It encounters some of the most varied land. One day I hope to travel the entirety of its length. ”

They stared in silence at the power that was the Anduin for a while longer. Eventually Aragorn shifted breaking the spell of their shared wonder.

“Come we must find a suitable area that we can cross over, there is still some light. I think however that we shall not dare the crossing until tomorrow.”

The followed the path of the river for the remainder of the afternoon. The before awkward and unhappy silence now amicable again. Or at least as much as it could be in the presence of two unlikely companions.

Maeve lay her head down that night in a much more peaceful state than she had in days. Her night was blissfully undisturbed.

Contrary to Aragon’s hope, they spent several days following the course of the Anduin before they came across a place that was suitable to cross. They made camp that night in a small dell, Aragorn allowing for a small fire. They ate in silence as had before their routine. In many ways Maeve was glad of the silence. To oft when Aragorn spoke would it be to reprimand her, or speak to her as a child. She knew she was still young but she didn’t appreciate Aragorn’s rude treatment of her.

Despite this she knew that Aragorn must know much, she wished he would teach her something. She was capable of leaning and cleaver thought. She liked learning. She snorted to herself; she never thought that she would miss school. This did seem to be the case however. Her phically needs were easily being met, if not completely above and beyond her normal levels, but mentally she was starting to feel entirely frustrated at the silence between her and Aragorn.

 Yesterday Maeve had found a stick to which she had decided would be useful for ‘swordsman’s practise’ her stubbornness on the matter hadn’t relent. She was determined to show Aragorn that she was not useless. Yet she doubted she could do more than wack a few trees into submissiveness unless Aragorn did decide to take her under his wing.

None the less whenever she thought it best to try something at least. So it was when she was certain that Aragorn was soundly asleep she went to go practise with her new found stick.

During the day she used it as a walking stick to keep Aragorn's suspicions at bay. Which in fact had proved highly useful indeed for the land they were traversing now was far rockier than the previously flat brownlands.

After an hour of waving the stick about uselessly she returned to the dell laying her head down to be claimed by her nightmares, which had been blissfully absent, almost instantly.

_……The pain was immense. The beast stared at her passionately as it slowly begun to tear her apart. She squirmed with what little strength she had left, she couldn’t fight the pain much longer. The beast stopped in its motion for a moment. She too heard a heavy crack in the oak they were on. The tree began to shift beneath them, dipping towards the murderous chasm. The beast growled low, it begun to shift as if to move them off the oak. But it was to late. They plunged towards the beckoning gorge in the earth. The last thing she saw was the beast flaring its wings, it would fly to safety. She did not have time to understand why she felt glad about this……_

That morning they prepared to cross the river. Although much calmer than further up the river, the Anduin was still strong and highly perilous to cross.

Aragorn firmly tied the two of the together, tying a much looser knot onto the saddle of the horse. When Maeve inquired why he explained in a gruff manner (his hostility towards her was slowly fading a touch each day) that if the horse where to go under he could detach the knot and so save them from being pulled under with her.

They stripped down to the bare minimum of clothes, Maeve blushing slightly when she remembered that she wasn’t wearing a bra, she had all but forgot about it. The rest of their clothes they placed in the partially waterproof saddle parts.

Aragorn led the way into the water carefully leading nervous Erȅabra after him. Maeve followed after, blanching as the freezing water touched her bear feet. It took a large strength of will to convince herself to wade the distance to the waste high water where Aragorn stood patiently waiting. He nodded at her, and she smiled at him her readiness.

 The floor of the river dropped quickly from there, leaving Maeve shivering, her breathing coming in small quick pants as they swam across the centre of the river. Several times pieces of driftwood crashed into her numb body, fortunately not large enough to seriously damage.

Despite their attempts to swim straight across they were swept close to half a mile downriver before they finally managed to reach the opposite bank. They clambered out soaked through to the bone. Maeve was shivering violently. Her feet and hands verging on an opaque blue.

Thankfully the packs had suffered little water, leaving their other clothes partially damn but a welcome relief to their other sodden clothes. Once changed they headed into the forest which sat on the verge of the bank.

Here Aragorn lit a larger fire. Meave sat as close to it as possible, she felt she would never be warm again. Aragorn too sat close to the fire although much more resistant to the cold than Maeve he warmed up far quicker.

The fire did its job and soon she lay back comforted greatly by her restored warmth. They did not move for the rest of the day, despite having crossed early Aragorn deciding it was fair time for a day to rest and rebuild their strengths.

Later that afternoon Maeve realised with a drop of her heart that she had lost her stick. It didn’t take long however for her to soon find a replacement. Aragorn left for a time in search of game. She took the opportunity to wander off buy herself for a while.

She took her newfound stick enjoying the sensation of its smooth wood in her hands, it was better than her last, somehow moving more freely though the air and sitting more comfortably in her palm.

She came upon a small busy covered in juicy blue berries. She took them back to camp triumphantly. They had run out of berries a while ago, these would be a nice substitute. She was in such a rush to show Aragorn that she didn’t even try one as was her usual way.

When Aragorn reappeared with his kills she showed them proudly to him. His eyes flashed as he caught sight of them. He grabbed them and threw them into the underbrush.

“Did you eat any?” he demanded of her.

“No” she said confused and hurt leaking into her voice.

“You are lucky that you did not,” he growled at her “had you done so you would be dead within the day, it would be in no way a pleasant death either”

she stared wide eyed at him, a shiver moving up her spine. If she had not been in such a rush…she had read so many books, she should of known better then to think that anything was edible. She had only wished to prove to Aragorn some of her competancetance. Instead she had only made herself more fool in his eyes. These thoughts remained internal chocking out instead.

“I didn’t know” he huffed to himself, and begun to prepare food.

That night they ate their first proper meal in what felt like years to Maeve. Aragorn had managed to kill a bird and a rat of some kind. The meat was a welcomed change to the tough leather they had been living off.

She sat subdued throughout the meal, feeling angry at her stupid mistake, frustrated and disappointed. So great was her anger that she again had great troubles sleeping. She tossed and turned for hours before she finally fell into a restless sleep.

_……The air was parting about her preparing her; below she could see a bed of rocks ready to rip her to pieces. Close she was so close; she could feel death now, a looming figure waiting to claim her when she hit the bottom. The pain was gone she felt sorrow at this. The pain had been her friend.  She closed her eyes not able to face her fate seeing. Then pain immense pain again, she welcomed it smiled. It clawed into her back. She looked up to see the beast clenching her in its thick claws. They rose away from death, she saw him nod his head in understanding, the shadows swallowing him again._

_The beast strained to carry them both to safety, it was strong, yet it was still only young she realised. It dropped her on the cliff edge, its breath hard and fast. The pain had enveloped her again yet she managed to force out._

_Why did you save me?....._


	9. It may well be that they alone keep in memory what it was once needful for the wise to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though. What is with these nightmares?!

After their crossing of the Anduin Aragorn begun to gradually lead them inland. The first two days consisted of dense forest, its darkness escalated by the stormy clouds above. Maeve begrudgingly admitted that it was more like a sparse walk in the park compared to Mirkwood’s clustered interior.

The trees were great oaks; mixed in what looked like birch trees …and others that Maeve could put a name to. The forest seemed all relatively similar with little visible animal life. The walk would of become uninteresting expect for one unexpected factor.

They had been walking for an hour on the first day when Aragorn had unexpectedly stopped almost causing Maeve to going stumbling into an outstretched branch. He had pointed out a small speckled orange moss to her listing its medicinal values and how to treat it before once again moving on.

She had stood shocked, before a slight glow of triumphance had washed over her. Since then Aragorn had been keeping a flow of information about the plants and forest about her. Even stopping once to point out a track of some wild animal, that Maeve would of never noticed.

She even asked a few questions of her own, each of which Aragorn tolerantly answered for her. Maeve felt the content with their new arrangement, glad that she was finally learning something. Maeve also kept up her self-imposed lessons with her stick, creeping away at night to attempt to gain some rhythm in her strokes.

By the morning of the third day they had left the forest behind again walking on open grasslands. Here Aragorn had stopped her and cautioned.

“We are now on the land of the Rohirrium. We will be crossing the east planes of their lands. Also known as the East Emnet buy them. Assured is our meeting with others. It is for this reason that I request that you now call me by thy name which you first met me, it is best that none are aware of my true identity.”

She nodded her head in understanding before asking something that had been praying on her own mind. “What am I meant to say of myself?”

Aragorn frowned. “I hadn’t yet thought on that. We shall have to think of a plausible story. King Thengel of whom I now go to see knows me well and shall not question your presence, however, for other company I think it best for the moment we say that you are a once removed niece of mine orphaned by your family.”

“Right sounds good.” Not sure that she liked the idea of covering up her true identity, but knowing it was most defiantly necessary.

“Also perhaps we should consider finding you different attire, it would be suspicious indeed for someone so young to be wearing a rangers clothes let alone a female.”

Maeve went to open her mouth and complain again at his unjust view on woman, but Aragorn held his hand up for her silence.

“No it does not bother me so much, nor am I offending you postion as a female. Even I will find some new clothing I think, we are viewed with some suspicion by the common people.” Maeve gave in seeing the logic in his reasoning. He gestured lastly to her ears. “And you will most certainly have to remove those strange ornaments in your ear.”

Maeve's hand went unconsciously up to her earrings; she had two in both ears and a fifth on the top of her right ear. She was very attached to her piercings due to how hard she had to fight her father for her right to get them.

“I am not taking them out!”

“It will be seen as unus..”

“I don’t care” she interrupted “you can try all you want I'm not going to removing them

He narrowed his eyes at her but sighed in frustrated defeat. “If it is truly your wish to leave them then I shall not demand that you remove them”

“Thank you,” she said grateful, none the less running her hand over them as if he would try and forcefully take them from her.

He sighed, quickly checking over the contents of Erȅabra's packs before nodding to himself in satisfaction. Time to move on.

Maeve readjusted her water satuel, which was now filled with a few useful herbs that Aragorn had pointed out, switching her stick into her opposite hand.

As they set out Aragorn spoke his thoughts aloud, “if I remember correctly there is a permanent dwelling of Rohirrium northeast of our position here. We shall find clothing and supplies there, and I think perhaps the barter of another steed to speed our way along would be wise.”

She felt a thrill at the idea of riding horseback, no longer having to trudge across the ground instead flying in the stirrup. She said none of the to Aragorn not wanting her to think her weak in her resolve. She also did not mention that she knew little of horses, only having a few lessons to her name.

As the days gradually slipped by Maeve was reminded greatly of their trek across the brownlands, although the ground here was softer, the land more hilly as well but it was still lifeless in many ways. More this meant also that there was little for Aragorn to teach her on. Instead he began to quiz her on what she had already learnt.

They came upon a heard of wild horses on day startling them into a wild gallop only to come to rest a few miles away, curiously glancing back at the intruders. It was on this day that Aragorn finally discovered her self taught lessons in swordsman ship.

She was swinging her stick at imaginary enemies in great arch’s under the nearly full moon, pretending to occasionally to stab mightily into the chest of some great foe. He leaned against a solitary tree Maeve unaware of his presence until he commented dourly. “Your timing is off, and your blows are reckless and wild.”

Maeve who was in mid swing turned so swiftly that the momentum of her sudden movement landed her square on her arse. Aragorn casually strode over to her. “Also your grip on that wood is incorrect”

She stood up allowing him to readjust her hand to a slightly more uncomfortable position. “If you were to continue to hold it in that position when it came to give a parry you would find yourself without a sword in moments.”

He stood back surveying her with a thoughtful glance. “Show me your begging position.”

“My what?” She spluttered out still coming to terms with the fact that Aragorn hadn’t yet raised his voice at her. He sighed slightly.

“Your brace position, as if you were about to take a blow from another swordsman.”

She awkwardly shuffled her feet bracing her feet apart slightly raising the stick to hover just in front of her face. She gripped tightly at the sword nervous under the heavy gaze of Aragorn. She felt somewhat mad.

He again approached her walking smartly around her. he rapped his hand on her thigh saying as he did so “spread you legs wider, yes like that” (god that sounds like a porno don’t it)

“It is imperative that you are balanced from your core” she nodded in understanding “do you feel strong” she nodded again. He abruptly pushed her sending her sprawling to the ground.

“What was that for?!” her arse hurting for the jarring impact.

“If you were truly balanced and strengthened in your core you could of withstood that blow adjusting your footing to match the weight of my push. “Up and drop that stick, you will not be needing it I think.” 

They spent the rest of the evening in this manner Aragorn testing her balance and stance over and over again until he finally grunted “better” he then spent the better part of an hour getting her to hold her arms out in different ‘strike’ positions, testing not only her stamina and strength but her temper.

She snapped once at him. “I have had enough” she yelled “enough of this foolishness”

He allowed her a brief pause saying simply. “You would not be forded this chance if you were to find yourself in the midths of a battle. It is often the resolve of the mind, the final strength that will pull you through, now stand again, if you are to be taught under me you will not elude the basics.”

She did not question him again.

When Aragorn finally dismissed her She felt sleep hadn’t been more welcomed by anyone.

_….Because we are one. Said the beast simply. And for the first time she understood, because the eyes that stared back at hers were the same colour as her own. She would of smiled but the pain was too immense. Instead she said simply._

_Make us whole……….._


End file.
